


here lies home

by spills



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Casual Hauntings Happen, Ghost!Hinata, Implied Not So Human!Atsumu, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spills/pseuds/spills
Summary: There is a beautiful man in this garden, a cloak draped over his shoulders, and his lips twisted in a pout. Again, he gives a heavy sigh – but then Shouyou catches words he was never expecting from someone else’s lips.“Well, if I’m gonna be living here, might as well make it a palace.”-AtsuHina Exchange gift for OctavineelsPrompt: a 100 year old ghost falls for the newest owner of a house in a quiet woods.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Kita Shinsuke/Miya Osamu (implied)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67
Collections: AtsuHina Exchange





	here lies home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sankyuuonigiri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sankyuuonigiri/gifts).



> hi hi octavineels!! thank you for this prompt, since it had me thinking many thoughts, and reminded me of why i love atsuhina!! i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i did brainstorming and thinking about it!! <3 <3

There is a beautiful man in Shouyou’s overgrown garden. 

Blonde hair that’s catching golden sun rays with his upper lip curled upwards in disdain at the unruly foliage, Shouyou can’t help the giggle that bubbles in his chest. He’s been dead for a while now, so even if he wanted to tend to this unruly mess, it would have been near impossible.

His hands are no longer tangible, and he’s sure that the gash in his chest still bleeds. He wishes that he could clean the blood – but as he’s learnt with passing time, he’s stuck with his body as it was in his final moments.

Maybe he could be free of blood if he moved on. Shouyou isn’t sure why he hasn’t yet if he had to be dishonest. 

It has been so long since the night his village was razed down. 

His house being the only left standing amidst the sea of red that inky blue night. Built on the periphery, on the outskirts of the village. 

A waste of a good torch to burn a single building down.

Once upon a time, he was called a witch by the Empire and its soldiers had pillaged his hometown. Did so under the decree that this village had harboured witches. How the Renegade at the time would have sought out any allies or youth to recruit. 

By the time Shouyou had realized something was amiss, the village houses in the distance had caught ablaze. He told his sister to run, hide in these for the night, as their cottage would not be safe shelter. 

It was a gamble - surely these soldiers wouldn’t be so diligent to scour the entire woods for any survivors. 

If Natsu was caught, slaughtered like he was, he wonders if her spirit would have eventually found her way back here. To home. 

Being honest, he’s waiting for a sign that she survived. If she won’t come back as another ghost, maybe he’s been hoping to see her one more time before moving on. 

Wants to know that his sacrifice wasn’t in vain. That the little sister he managed to live a long, long happy life with that extra time he bought her. Shouyou knows that he’s being selfish, but maybe being alone in a house unacknowledged, unperceived brings out the worst in the undead. 

He’s been alone for so long in this building, in these woods that he’s lost track of time. 

Till today though.

There is a beautiful man in this garden, a cloak draped over his shoulders, and his lips twisted in a pout. Again, he gives a heavy sigh – but then Shouyou catches words he was never expecting from someone else’s lips.

“Well, if I’m gonna be living here, might as well make it a palace.”

-

Living in a house with a stranger that may or may not know you’re there is a scenario Shouyou had never imagined he would experience when he was alive, or even considered in later years of ghosthood.

The man residing in his house - he finds out - is a very silly man.

While he had said to himself that he would make this home a palace, it’s clear that he’s struggling with the chores. Though maybe Shouyou is being a little unfair, since it’s been a long time since anyone has entered his home. He thinks bandits had once tried to make this cottage a hideout, despite his blood spilt on the wooden panels that made up the floor. Obviously, his home was meant to be a place of warmth, so he scared off the bandits with ghostly wiles and what-not. Good to know that even now humans remained superstitious. 

He still hasn’t caught the name of the newest resident though. 

In his ghost head, the blonde man is now dubbed as ‘Silly Man.’ 

The Silly Man is a silly man because he thought that maybe a dash of fire magic would be the solution to cleaning blood off the floor. He’s lucky that Shouyou’s mother was an enchantress or else he would have needed to find more wood to replace a few burnt pieces.

Now instead of blood on the floor, it’s a few scorch marks instead. The wood from these trees are sturdy – hardwood of a different kind. It’s a little odd that humans haven’t ravaged this forest of its resources. 

Shouyou considers his fortune, as he already lost his home in life. It would be quite sad if he lost his home in the afterlife. This forest is benign. He wonders if the Silly Man knows that.

Shouyou allows himself to be entertained by the silly man’s antics.

Watches the other man struggle with his new house. Fixing up the roofs, lamenting over how quickly the weeds grow in the garden. Still, despite all his complaining, Shouyou wonders if the Silly Man is aware of the smile he wears when he manages to complete a task.

Smile is an understatement though, because the Silly Man has the brightest grin Shouyou has ever seen when he manages to chop firewood in clean halves. Come home whistling a jaunty tune when he catches enough fish to last three meals. Mumbles praise to himself when he avoids picking a poisonous mushroom to drop into the stew he was planning on making. 

Right now, the Silly Man is wiping sweat off his brow. There’s a wobbly smile on his face as he looks at the day’s progress: A fixed-up roof that he almost fell off from were it not for Shouyou’s ghostly intervention.

The ghost would like to think that this is a good home. Wonders if the other man is aware that he exists in the same space as the dead.

Would he leave if he found out this cottage was haunted? Or would he try to exorcise Shouyou from the only home he’s ever known?

-

Eventually. Shouyou gets answers to his questions in the form of the Silly Man’s doppelganger.

Ghosts don’t need sleep, but Shouyou supposes that he’s always found relief in closing his eyes, appreciating the sound of crinkling leaves, birds chirping. Occasionally there’s the sound of footsteps in the woods. Sometimes it’s hunters with a bow draped over their back. Other times it’s children, teens who stumbled into the heart of these woods.

At least, he tries to make sure the latter gets home.

Again, human touch has become foreign to him, but even if as his fingers slip through the cracks of a lost child, he’s learnt that children are much more trusting of their senses – letting brushes of wind guide them home.

At first, he had assumed that the Silly Man had dyed his hair dark, but this man’s expression didn’t have any of the Silly Man’s excitable energy – tying an unfamiliar horse to the wooden stakes of the fences. The strangest thing about this doppelganger is the moment he passed Shouyou by, Shouyou thought he saw his reflection in the other man’s irises underneath the noon. Wonders if he missed the pinched brows of the other man the moment their eyes _could_ have met.

Shouyou doesn’t want to bet on it though, not when he’s become so used to being invisible like this.

“Atsumu!” the doppelganger knocks on the front door of the cottage unceremoniously, “Open up the door! This place was a pain in the ass to find and I’m hungry!”

The Silly Man – _ah, no he has a name now –_ Atsumu, opens the door with dust smeared on his cheek and his hair in disarray, “Shut up, ‘Samu! I was cleaning the fireplace okay?!”

‘Samu’s jaw drops at the sight of his mirror image, breaking out into a guffaw, “Ya know, Shinsuke was asking me if ya would be okay living all alone in the woods, but I gotta say, the crazy old man in the woods look suits you,” the man cackles.

The house owner pouts at his twin’s comment, crossing his arms. “I’ve been trying to make this habitable, alright? It was kinda shitshow when I first got here, had to stay the night in the inn because the mattress was all rotted and gross.”

“Uh-huh,” the other man quirks an eyebrow in disbelief, earning a glower from his blonde twin as his eyes take quick stock of this homely little place, “Well fine. Place looks comfortable enough, but those scorch marks on the floor,” ‘Samu gestures at the burnt floor, “Did that come with the House or-?”

Embarrassed, Atsumu flicks his gaze away, offering neither confirmation or denial. 

Shouyou can’t help the giggle that bubbles out his chest, surprising himself with the sound of pure joy that escapes his lips. He wasn’t aware that he was still capable of making such a sound, eyes squeezed shut in childish delight.

He’s glad that this cottage he called home has someone that isn’t a bandit or soldier, just a man trying his best as an owner.

-

Just before Osamu (Osamu! A pair of twins! It’s Shouyou’s first time seeing a pair!) leaves the cottage, parting words are given. Shouyou stands in the gap between Atsumu and Osamu, because even if he’s a ghost, there’s nothing wrong with still being polite - wishing the other man safe journeys, seeing how much Shouyou had learnt about this new house owner today. 

“Hey, ‘Tsumu. Ya know yer left home for a little over a year yeah?” 

A year! Atsumu has been living in this house for a year already? What amazes Shouyou is that with so much time passed, he’s managed to call Atsumu “The Silly Man” for an entire year. 

“Have I?” Atsumu responds nonchalantly, picking at his nails. 

“Yeah,” Osamu gives a moment’s consideration, before his gaze meets Shouyou’s. Steel-coloured eyes that pierce, if Shouyou still had a body, he thinks all the blood in him would have gone cold, “Didn’t you say you just wanted to carry out a favour? Everyone else thought you would have been home as soon as you found the place.” 

“Maybe I like it here,” Atsumu rolls his eyes with a scoff, “Or maybe I just needed some time alone. I’ve been stuck with you for almost forever. And you have Kita who wants to be stuck with you forever. Lucky you,” and the grin he shows his brother is more teeth than smile. 

Osamu merely sighs, long-suffering, clearly used to this, “I’m not telling ya to come home ‘Tsumu. We both know that ya never were gonna stay there. I’m just curious _why_ here,” another flick of his gaze goes to Shouyou, “Don’t tell me ya weren’t aware of your little friend here the entire time,” his voice is flat, and Shouyou can’t help but gasp, his existence, acknowledged. 

He has so many questions, but Osamu merely turns away before Shouyou can find his voice to say anything. It’s been so long since he actually tried saying anything. 

Atsumu’s fingers twitch just the slightest, faking a placid smile on his face, “Ya trying to tell me this place is haunted? Almost sounds like ya want me to leave this place, ‘Samu.” 

To that Osamu barks a laugh, “I just missed my brother, shithead. Visit some time soon, the rest of the guys have been asking me if you’ve finally lost your marbles. As in _oh did Atsumu finally decide to become a hermit?_ I’m tired of explaining the story to them.” 

“Sounds like ya didn’t even try at all,” Atsumu scoffs, crossing his arms. 

To that, Osamu merely waves a hand in a careless goodbye before saddling up his chestnut bay of a beauty. Feeds her a carrot as a treat, then sets her into a trot. 

The furthest Shouyou as seen from the perimeter of his home is the edge of the woods. He knows he’s bound to this place. 

But Atsumu. 

Only now does Shouyou start wondering why the other man is here in the first place. Wants to ask the other man if he’s been able to see him this entire time, like Osamu. 

Before Shouyou can find his voice though, Atsumu turns away to clear the dishes, and it’s like the ghost had imagined himself being seen. 

-

It takes the ghost a little time to muster up courage to confront the cottage’s new owner. 

Midnight really, when Atsumu is all tucked up in bed, and the fireplace is burning at a low flame, comfortable, and more than likely to die around the middle of night. It’s when the flame has almost eaten itself up when Shouyou makes his move, seeing how comfortable and warm Atsumu is all nestled in his blanket. 

The ghost thinks he wants answers - especially if he’s been living with a stranger that may or may not have been aware of his existence the entire time, and have chosen to ignore it. If he wants to live in a haunted house, then Shouyou supposes that he can make it a properly haunted one. 

“Atsumu.” 

The name is an unfamiliar sound on Shouyou’s tongue. Only now does Shouyou reconcile how this stranger is a stranger he’s gotten to know intimately from simply observing in the time they spend together in the same space. It’s very unnerving. If Shouyou were still human, a situation like this would have never happened. 

Atsumu rolls over, as if he can’t hear Shouyou, but Shouyou’s almost sure that’s no longer the case. The other man has most likely gotten used to him - casual hauntings being a case of casual haunting - the story becoming a simple _‘I share my cottage with a ghost, but I just pretend he doesn’t exist’_ story. Shouyou can’t decide if his feelings should be hurt, or if he’s been disrespected as the original owner of the house. 

Though, what’s actually unnerving is that a man is able to simply look at something vaguely human and act as if he isn’t there. Shouyou’s not sure if he should even consider himself disrespected - seeing as he never had a grave in the first place. 

“Atsumu.” He calls out the other man’s name again, this time getting a response. 

“Shh, quiet down, I’m trying to sleep here,” comes the answer from the man, half-awake, probably dozing off. 

Oh, so Atsumu could have heard him this entire time. It’s just Shouyou never figured out how to speak. Forgotten how to speak. What a miracle that vocal chords don’t simply tighten up and stop working when you’re undead. 

A spirit, Shouyou can’t help the laugh that leaves his mouth, helpless and bitter. 

It’s the laugh that jolts Atsumu awake. The look of panic turned resignation is unmistakable when Shouyou looks him eye to eye. _Silly man_ , and the thought should have more disdain, but maybe it’s unfortunate that Shouyou has grown fond of the other man in this… domesticity. Time sort of spent together. 

Shouyou can see his own reflection in the other man’s golden gaze. And it’s only now, up close, Shouyou is starting to doubt how human the other man in front of him is. 

Shouyou is meant to be dead yet now, he’s reflected in the living’s eyes. 

“Wait. So you knew that I was here the whole time?” Shouyou can’t help how his voice ends up being a menacing hiss, frustration that boils in his chest. Maybe it’s an effect of being lonely for hell knows how long, while Atsumu simply observed him while away his days. 

Was this what they were? Strangers who merely observed each other? Strangers in the first place, so their relationship shouldn’t matter. A man and the ghost in his house - they should mean nothing to each other.

If Shouyou still needed lungs to breathe, he thinks he would have needed a lungful of air to calm himself down. The loneliness getting to his head, he’s thinking about a year’s worth of conversation missed - but wonders if he’s gotten to know the other man well because of their silence. 

A boundary drawn by the other man for neither of them to cross. 

However right now, Shouyou knows that he’s crossing it, making the effort to cross it. In their time together, he didn’t realize that this line was man-made instead of something that the gods had decreed to be untouchable.

Atsumu looks tired. Shouyou had assumed that he was in his mid-20s, but now... he gets the feeling that he might have been sorely mistaken. The gaze itself is too old to belong to someone in their 20s. Thinking about it now… Shouyou was in his 20s when he had gotten the gaping wound in his chest. 

Done in by a polearm. Maybe the small mercy here was that the soldier didn’t see the need to burn down this house, too far from civilization, not worth the fuel and flame. 

“Do we need to have this conversation now?” the other man sighs, as if they’ve known each other forever, and here’s to another day’s bickering. 

“I’ll have you know that this was my house first,” Shouyou huffs, not even sure what to say. In a previous life, he remembers being a child and the older children sharing ghost stories by the campfire. How a boy once got so scared by the forest spirits that he ended up mute from fear. 

Shouyou does not feel like a very scary ghost right now, just one stuck in limbo, confused, trying to remember why he’s bound to this cottage in the first place, aside from it being his childhood home. 

“I know,” replies Atsumu, and he sounds so weary. “Ya didn’t seem like you could talk at first, so I figured that we could just co-habitat. This forest seems to love ya, and I assumed that ya were already rooted here - didn’t want to disturb the peace ya already had here.” 

“I didn’t know you could hear me,” Shouyou chuckles bitterly, “let alone see me, it’s been forever since I’ve held a conversation,” he continues dryly, “So forgive me for not reaching out the way fairytale ghosts are supposed to.” 

“Are ya a fairytale ghost?” Atsumu snorts, and then turns away from Shouyou, “Ya seem more like woodland folk to me. The forest has pretty much claimed ya, in case ya haven’t noticed.” 

Shouyou blinks at the latter’s statement. “What? You’re telling me that you mistook me for a forest spirit?” 

“There were rumors of a forest spirit in the town nearby,” Atsumu mumbles, “Lost children claiming the only reason they managed to escape the woods was because of a sun fairy holding their hands, leading them back to the forest’s edge.” The man yawns, “For the times you weren’t in the house, I just assumed you were in the forest, committing your good deed of the day or whatever.” 

“Yeah? Well, anytime you were failing at the chores I’d just call you The Silly Man. I spent the whole year? It’s been a year right? I’ve lost track of time, but. I spent this whole year just calling you The Silly Man in my head because I only found out you had a name today.” 

The man gives a tired laugh at that as if all the fight has left him. Usually, Atsumu is more feisty than this, especially when he’s attempting to fish and failing miserably with the rod, so he’d just wade into the stream to catch dinner with his bare hands. 

“Miya Atsumu,” he answers, and Shouyou finds himself remembering one of the first few words he had heard Atsumu say upon arriving at his cottage. 

_Might as well make a palace out of it_ . A surname that means _palace_. 

“I’m Hinata Shouyou,” the ghost responds, wondering if Atsumu has just been calling him The Ghost during their time of living together. 

“I had a guess,” the man yawns, and that causes Shouyou to raise his eyebrows. “Look sunshine,” Atsumu looks like he’s having trouble keeping his eyes open, lids heavy and mouth shaped in a sideways lazy smile, “I’ll explain myself tomorrow, but right now I’m real tired. In case you haven’t noticed, sometimes dealing with my brother is a handful, and I just need a bit of shut-eye. Think you can give me that?” 

“If you promise that we’ll talk tomorrow,” Shouyou answers sullenly. 

“Sure, promise I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Atsumu’s sleepy smile widens just by a bit, “Swear it on whatever ghosts swear on.” 

-

Morning comes soon enough, with Atsumu greeting the sun with a yawn, crawling out of bed, like every other morning as if Shouyou isn’t there. The routine goes like this: he washes up, changes out of his night clothes, and makes breakfast. 

Suddenly, he’s the one hyper aware of the living’s presence, catching shoulder blades from the corner of his eye, dressed in tan skin. A part of him wonders what it would mean if he could touch the other man, to have his sense of touch back. The knobs of the man’s spine are prominent as he bends down and takes off his nightshirt, curling back up when he’s replaced it with a light tunic. 

Pulls on a pair of trousers and turns around, to catch Shouyou staring. 

“You weren’t this gutsy before,” Atsumu notes idly as Shouyou steps out of the way. It doesn’t matter, because again, Shouyou is intangible, and Atsumu passes through Shouyou’s hand. “Usually, people don’t want others to know that they’re watching the other one strip,” the tone is conversational, and Shouyou thinks he’s blushing right now. Would be blushing if he had any blood that could rush up to his cheeks, become a bloom of fireworks. 

Instead, the hole in his chest only bleeds more, acutely reminding him of what he lacks. It’s almost embarrassing, but are the dead supposed to have shame? 

Since death, he’s been here alone, no other souls or spirits in sight, except the occasional whispering of the trees. Sometimes, he thinks that the woods are trying to speak to him, telling him to _come home, come home._

Other times however, it’s a whisper that lingers after him, claiming _you’re already home._

Shouyou follows Atsumu into the kitchen, watches him prepare breakfast for himself. “I would offer to make ya something, but y’know,” a glance over Shouyou’s semi-corporeal form, “Ya don’t need to eat yeah? Since… I haven’t seen ya take a bite outta anything,” a thoughtful hum, “and ya don’t seem like a malicious spirit,” a thoughtful look to Shouyou, “Ya aren’t a malicious spirit, are ya Shouyou?” 

“If I was malicious, I would have chased you out of the cottage long ago, Atsumu,” and Shouyou is unable to help the bitterness that slips into his voice when he speaks the other man’s name, “Speaking of which. You could see me the entire time? And never bothered to say hello? Really?” 

It stung, just a little. If Shouyou had to chalk up to why - it’d be something in regards to the crushing weight of loneliness, and how someone else could have alleviated that pain a little earlier. On the other hand, Shouyou is still in a little disbelief that Atsumu had subjected himself to a year of casual haunting. Never once batting an eyelid for when Shouyou was within his periphery. 

“Rules simple: Don’t greet ghosts or spirits that don’t greet ya first. Especially don’t if they greet ya first,” Atsumu sets his food on a plate. Toasted bread with butter and wild berries picked from the forest. The man takes a seat at the dining table, a cup of tea already set there. Warm, because Atsumu tends to burn his tongue constantly.

“Oh yeah?” Shouyou grits his teeth, “Funny how there’s no malicious spirits here.” 

Atsumu shrugs, “Probably because of ya. Ya never got buried, did you?” Shouyou flinches at the living man’s bluntness. “Usually those who don’t get a proper burial become malicious beings. This forest is haunted according to the local village,” he flicks his gaze to Shouyou, “Haunted by _ya_ I’m guessing.” 

The tension in the air is thick, and Atsumu gives it a second before snapping it. “Why are ya still here, Shouyou?” 

“Back up a bit, okay?” Shouyou hates how defensive he sounds, but this shouldn’t feel like an interrogation. Last night, they agreed that they would talk about it. So no, no interrogating just on his end. “How did you find this place? Since if the forest is supposed to be haunted, why would you even want to come here?” 

Atsumu looks up from his food, pops a berry in his mouth. “I met a little old lady by the sea a while ago. Helped her get home from the market, and she invited me in for tea.” The man looks wistful recounting the memory, “told me ‘bout her childhood home, but admitted that she wasn’t sure if it was still standing,” a soft sigh out Atsumu’s throat, “said it was a miracle that she managed to escape the Empire at the time but… her brother wasn’t so lucky,” and offers a bittersweet smile in lieu of comfort.

Silence fills the room, and Shouyou. Shouyou isn’t sure how to- what to- what is there that can be said? How does one respond to that? So. He settles for silence, all that he’s able to give till Atsumu finally finishes his breakfast.

“Natsu,” he croaks, and _oh_ it’s been so long since he last said her name, “How old was she when you met her?” 

To that, Atsumu flashes a toothy grin. “111 years old. Amazing, isn’t it?”

-

“You know, you still haven’t told me how you ended up here,” Shouyou hums, “or why you’re choosing to stay.” 

Today, the two of them are in the garden as the sun is setting in the distance. Atsumu gardens in the evening now, claims that it’s easier to see him then. 

Atsumu who was humming a jolly tune for himself stops in favour to retort, “Ya haven’t told me why ya haven’t moved on yet either though, Shouyou?” patting the soil where the new herbs have been planted. Osamu had popped by with them yesterday - mint, basil, and rosemary. Osamu had also brought lunch, and while they had their meal, Shouyou had lounged above them leisurely, forgetting that sometimes, he bleeds, dripping intangible ghost blood centre of the table counter. 

Osamu had looked up at him with a disappointed gaze while Atsumu had just snickered. It’s… nice, this cottage which he had called home, now actually _feeling like a home._

There’s dirt on Atsumu’s chin, if Shouyou still had use of his fingers, he would have wiped it off the other man’s chin. Instead, he settles for calling out the other man’s name, getting Atsumu’s attention to tap at his own chin. 

“‘Tsumu, you got a little something here.”

“Oh gross,” Atsumu’s face scrunches up after seeing the soil on the fingers, wiping it away on his trousers, “Thank ya Shouyou.” 

“Uh huh,” Shouyou teases, “You’re probably going to dirty yourself again though.” To that, Atsumu flings a bit of dirt at him, only for it to pass through the ghost, sticking his tongue in jest. 

“Then why tell me in the first place?” Atsumu mumbles with a huff, “Anyway. I already told ya how I got here: Little old lady told me a story, and I got curious.” He tilts his head in Shouyou’s direction, sunlight catching his eyes, dark brown now a bright gold. 

“I guess I got sick of the city, just wanted somewhere all to myself,” a moment’s hesitation, before allowing a grain of truth to slip past his lips, “though I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to _want_ to stay.” 

“What made you stay then?” Shouyou’s curiosity piqued, hovering over the other man - he still hasn’t answered the latter question, and Shouyou is nothing but persistent. 

“Mn,” Atsumu looks away, hand rubbing the back of his neck, “got used to the company, I suppose.” 

Shouyou can’t help but snort at that, remembering their one year of silence. Atsumu’s been living here for a half a decade now though, so Shouyou figures he can believe the other man. Still, Atsumu pouts at his reaction, crossing his arms before taking another jab at the ghost. 

“Well, how about you?” Atsumu pokes, “Why are you still here? You _could_ move on to the next life, so why are you still here?” 

If Shouyou had to be honest, he remembered that he ended up lingering because he wanted a sign that Natsu was alive and well somewhere, anywhere. Then it was because someone needed to help all these lost children get home after the war. 

The reason now though… Shouyou can feel the edges of his mouth curling into a soft smile before offering a careless shrug, and then fashioning his mouth into a bright grin. 

“Guess it’s because I like the company too, Atsumu.” 


End file.
